


A Very Grey Area

by tempered_rose



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF
Genre: Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2595299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempered_rose/pseuds/tempered_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fips thinks he's unlovable, Bastian seems to think otherwise…</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Grey Area

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote fluff. Someone alert the press. O.O  
> Don't get used to it :P

Maybe he was a little too serious for his own good; maybe that had always been his problem and was the reason why he was regarded as such a stoic character with a grumpy personality. He could hardly help it. Philipp didn’t like stupid people, hated indecision, and he didn’t like a world where everything wasn’t black and white. It either was, or it was not. There was nothing in the middle. Why couldn’t anyone else just see that?

For views such as those, Philipp had resigned himself to being a grumpy old curmudgeon of a man that would never have anyone who loved him. Not that he minded about that; love was another stupid emotion, emotions—god, they were awful weren’t they?—got in the way of everything and messed it all up. Emotions, sentiment, brought about drama and made white things black and black things white; and if ever there was something that could smudge the line between the two and create a gray area—not that Philipp would ever admit to such a thing—it was that pesky maudlin emotion of love.

He didn’t really care. He was a professional footballer with balance in his life and he had friends that he could live vicariously through if he needed. He would watch, always from afar, as the melodrama of their lives did not affect him and he was okay with that. He would give them sound, logical and rational advice if they came to him and he would spare not their feelings, but give them the honesty of a real world perspective to help them along in their decision. Perhaps he was a bit harsh, but he did not soften things often for most people. Whether it be a career choice or something so yucky as a break up, Philipp delivered his advice the same way every time. To the point, honestly, and considering all sides of the issue. 

So when it came to Bastian and his admitting of a secret—the fact that he was in love with someone in the first team—Philipp was prepared to tell him what to do about that and deliver that advice with the most honest way he knew how. He was considering the pros and cons of such an action when he said the brilliant gem of ‘you should probably just be honest with the person so that way you won’t waste anyone’s time, least of all yours’. It was then that Bastian looked him square in the eyes and spoke.

“I love you, Fips.”

Philipp blinked. And again. And for a third time. Then he spoke again.

“Excuse me?”

“I love you. I’m in love with you. I’m being honest as you said. Do you like me too? Even a little bit?” Bastian asked, smiling slightly but Philipp still had enough presence of mind to notice he looked nervous.

“But…why?” Philipp asked, noticing that there was a bit of gray beginning to smudge his pristine world.

“Why not? You’re adorable, cute, funny. Very smart and talented. I always had a thing for older men…the list is endless.” Bastian smiled a little bit more freely but he still appeared nervous. All of these were very reasonable reasons to like someone. _To like me_ , Philipp corrected his mind.

Did he like Bastian? Of course. Like _that_? Yes, very much so. Would it work out between them? Most likely not. Would there be hurt feelings along the way? Definitely so. Would it ultimately fall apart at the seams and they would both be broken hearted? Who knew.

“You can buy me a coffee. Then we can talk about it later.” Philipp replied and Bastian’s nerves looked a little less stretched as he began to smile brighter. “At your place.”

The grin that Bastian’s face made Philipp’s world a nice shaded hue of pink and Philipp wondered if Valentines had come early. At least now there was no black, white, or grey. Just pink. And Bastian’s green eyes. Yes, he would greatly enjoy looking into those more often; over dinner, in bed, on the sofa, just because.

Maybe Cupid’s arrow wasn’t quite so bad after all.


End file.
